


Confusion

by Sineala



Category: The Eagle | The Eagle of the Ninth (2011)
Genre: Community: the_eagle_kink, M/M, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:39:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/810121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sineala/pseuds/Sineala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What in the world had he done to make Marcus think this of him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confusion

**Author's Note:**

> A much-delayed itty-bitty fill for the Eagle kink meme. The prompt was "What if Esca was actually totally oblivious to the feelings Marcus admits he has for him?"

It had begun in Eburacum, the day Marcus let the Eagle fly from his hands.

Or at least, that was when it had begun for Esca. That was the problem.

"You decide," Marcus had said.

Laughing, Esca had stepped out into the sunlight beside his friend. "Then I choose a room at an inn," he had said. "I want to sleep for a day and night and a day again."

"That tired, eh?"

Marcus had smiled back, and he had found them a room. It was tiny, but the beds were decent. It would do. So Esca had unslung all his packs and made himself comfortable.

When he straightened up he found Marcus staring at him with a queer expression on his face. He had gone tense about his eyes, his jaw tight, and Esca thought perhaps he was in pain. It had been a long journey for both of them, and Marcus had surely borne it worse than he.

"Are you unwell?"

"No, no," said Marcus hastily, but his face only twisted more. "It is only--" he began, but he did not finish the sentence. He stepped closer, started to hold out his hand, and then checked the motion.

"Only what?" Esca repeated. What was wrong with Marcus? Perhaps he was ill after all.

But Marcus still stared, and now he gave a little sigh. "Esca?" he asked, and now the tone of his voice was strange as well, all rising and hopeful, but afraid at the same time. It was not like Marcus to behave thus. Whatever it was, could he not just come out and say it?

"Yes, that's me," Esca said, the words snapping out of him, but Marcus did not seem to mind -- at least, it did not make him look any more fearful than he already was. "What of it?"

Marcus took another step forward. He was close now, within arm's reach, looking down at him. His eyes were wide now, and his chest was heaving as he breathed, as if he wanted to run. What did he fear? There was nothing to fear.

"This," Marcus said hoarsely, and then he wrapped his arms about Esca, pulled him even closer, and kissed him.

Stunned, Esca could at first think of nothing to do but let it happen. He was held fast in Marcus' embrace. One of Marcus' hands curved about his side to splay across his back, while the other, huge and warm and callused, pressed against his face, tilting his head up to let their mouths meet.

It had been years since anyone had kissed him. And this was a proper kiss, the sort of kiss shared by lovers, not a greeting-kiss or a simple kiss of friendship. There was desire in it; that much was clear from the trembling of Marcus' mouth against his, the careful way his fingers stroked Esca's face. And then abruptly Marcus' mouth opened; his tongue flicked out wetly, licking along Esca's lips. Just as Esca's mouth fell open, astonished, he was shockingly, abruptly aware of Marcus' hand on his back beginning to slide lower, down his spine, a journey with definite intent.

Marcus wanted this of him? And Marcus thought he wanted this? Marcus even went so far as to presume he wanted this, to take without asking? Had Esca given some sign, some look, that by an awful coincidence Marcus had assumed to be his invitation? What in the world had he done to make Marcus think this of him?

"Stop," he said, into Marcus' mouth, feeling his heart start to pound. 

The word only came out as a meaningless groan, and it seemed that Marcus took it for encouragement because his grip grew tighter and he moaned back.

Esca wrenched his head back and away, finally breaking the kiss. "No," he said, as clearly as he was able to. That was the only thing he was clear about. "Marcus, what--? Why?" He couldn't think of words. There weren't words for this.

All at once Marcus froze and dropped back from him, his hands down, falling away and crumpling like a man run through with a sword. The bed creaked as he sat down heavily, as if his legs had given out on him entirely, and he buried his face in his hands.

Neither of them said anything. The only sound in the room was Marcus' rasping breaths.

"I thought," Marcus began, in a voice that sounded five words from weeping, "I thought you liked me."

"I do like you," Esca said awkwardly, helplessly, because at least that much was true.

Marcus only curled more tightly in upon himself. "I mean, I thought you... desired me."

"I--" Esca opened his mouth and then shut it again. "I have never thought about it. You are my friend, Marcus."

Marcus did look up at that. His eyes were full of the rawest agony, and when he spoke, his voice was bitter. "But only your friend, is that it?"

He did not know how to explain it to Marcus. Perhaps Esca had been too long a slave, or perhaps Marcus would not know how to think as slaves thought. It was not a thing worth thinking about, whether your master was attractive; it bore no relation to whether you would end up in his bed. Thus it had only been easier not to consider anything of the sort. And it had already been strange enough, difficult enough, to come to regard Marcus -- his master, his people's enemy, a man who had soldiered against Britons -- as his friend. Being able to think of him as a lover was beyond the realm of possibility.

"I would not lie to you." He wished he could. He had spent months lying about the Eagle. But he found he did not want to deceive Marcus about this. "It is as I said; it is not a thing I have thought about, and it startled me. But there is friendship between us, at least, and it may be that once I have thought about it, I will say yes." He ought to have stopped talking there, but it seemed his mouth wanted to do the rest of his musing aloud. "I think it could be well. You are kind, a good person, and I know you have been lonely; I think together we could--"

"Kind?" Marcus spat out the word and rose to his feet again. He was still shaking, but now his face was dark with shame. "Good? Lonely? Do you think I want your pity? Is that it? Do you think I would be happy knowing you said yes because you felt sorry for me?"

"I wouldn't do that," Esca said, quickly, holding up his hands in supplication. He did not think Marcus heard him, though; Marcus heard only what he wanted. "I only meant to be comforting."

Marcus snorted. "Comfort? Sympathy?" His voice was still wretched. "I'd rather have nothing at all."

He was ridiculous. He was being stupid. That was it, that was absolutely it. Was he going to reject everything Esca said? All he wanted was time to think.

"Don't do this to yourself."

"I already did."

"Marcus, please," Esca began, though he did not know what he would say. "Listen to me."

"About what? About how you're going to change your mind?"

"Marcus--"

"It won't happen." Marcus shook his head and turned away. "I should never have said anything. I should never have done anything. I should have gone to a brothel long ago, tried to get you out of my head. You wouldn't-- you wouldn't leave my mind. I should have made the thoughts leave. I should have tried, but I could not, not when you were there."

Did Marcus think this was _his_ fault? Did he? How could he say such a thing? Anger roared through him. Marcus had started this. How dare he ruin everything between them just because he wanted this? Marcus clearly could not even settle his own stupid mind about it.

"Maybe you should try a brothel now," he retorted, and Marcus' head snapped back, and his eyes were full of betrayal, turning to an icy glare.

"Maybe I will."

And with that he was gone.

Esca was left standing alone in their tiny room, rapidly feeling more and more idiotic himself. Marcus had kissed him. Marcus had told him he wanted him. Esca had... told him to find a whore.

Well.

"Filthy pox-ridden sister-fucking coward," he said, with feeling, not really sure who he was insulting, and he kicked the leg of the nearer bed as hard as he could.

The leg splintered and the entire bed lurched, teetering on the edge of collapse.

Of course.

* * *

"Have you seen my friend?"

The innkeeper stared blankly.

"The man I came in with," Esca said. "Tall. Roman. Limping. Probably angry."

And that was Marcus in five words, wasn't it?

He had expected that Marcus would have come to his senses. He'd have sat down, had a cup of wine, and thought about how he'd reacted. Of course Esca was surprised. It was only natural to be surprised by such an unexpected thing. It didn't mean Marcus had to declare his life ruined and storm off like a petulant child. And yet Marcus wasn't here.

"He asked for directions," the innkeeper said, after a thoughtful pause.

"To where?"

The innkeeper only stared at him and then slowly held out a hand, palm up.

Esca glared and dropped about half a sestertius in the man's hand. Copper clinked.

The innkeeper looked down at his palm almost mournfully. "The public baths."

Well, it wasn't a _professional_ brothel. That was something, at least. But that had never stopped anyone from making all sorts of personal transactions at the baths. Usually a few whores rented out the apartments above the apodyterium, or so he had seen in Calleva.

Distantly, Esca wondered why he cared. It had, after all, been his suggestion.

"And where are those?"

The innkeeper stared meaningfully at his own hand again and then cleared his throat.

"Fine," Esca said, tightly, handing over even more coins.

He had to find Marcus. He wasn't certain what he was going to do when he found him, but it had to be better than this.

* * *

He paid the doorkeeper at the baths. Marcus did not seem to be among the men in the palaestra, and so Esca would have to enter the baths proper to see if Marcus was actually there. Sighing, he went in, stripped, and paid one of the slaves to watch his clothing. At least it was all Marcus' money.

He found Marcus, finally, by himself in a corner of the tepidarium pool. His eyes were closed, his head tipped back. To one who did not know him, it might appear that he was relaxing, enjoying the waters, but Esca could tell otherwise in the bunched way his shoulders were set, the tense line of his throat, the clenching of his jaw. Still upset, then.

And at least he was alone. Though of course if he'd done as he said he would he should have been with the whores even now, and some part of Esca was pleased to see that he had not. But it should not matter. Marcus was his own man. He was free to do as he wished. It should not displease Esca that he might. None of it made any sense.

Esca slipped into the water and made his way, as quietly as he could, to where Marcus was sitting.

"Hail, Marcus."

Marcus' eyes shot open instantly, and he breathed in once, sharply, almost a gasp of surprise. "How did you find--?"

"The same way you did," he said, shortly. "Asked the innkeeper. May I sit?"

Marcus lifted a dripping hand out of the water. "Suit yourself." His voice was cold, curt.

Esca sat next to him. They looked at each other in silence a few moments, and then Esca knew what he had to say. "I'm sorry."

Having turned his head, Marcus stared at him in bewilderment. "Esca, it is certainly not you who need apologize for what I-- what I-- how do you mean to talk about this here?" He did not move except to glance furtively in the direction of the other bathers, as if any of them could hear, or even knew them at all, that they might care about their conversation.

"Pfft." Esca waved a dismissive hand. "They are not listening."

Marcus looked at him, eyes wide, and took a deep breath before he spoke. "Then I will say I am the sorry one here. I saw that you... thought well of me... and I thought it meant something that it clearly does not. Something that I wanted to be true so much that I was blind to the actual truth of it."

"Why me? Why now?" He knew Marcus could hear the frustration in him, all the confusion, but perhaps if they talked more, if Marcus explained himself--

A rueful, unhappy grin spread across Marcus' face. "Don't you think I've asked myself that, all this year? It was not as though the fates ever gave me a choice."

Under the water, Esca's fingertips dug into his thighs. All this year? He had thought, perhaps, that it had been some whim, something newly come upon Marcus, in their exhilaration at the end of his quest. "How long have you wanted this?"

Marcus looked away, but not before Esca saw something dark and guilty cross his features.

"You bought me," Esca said, slowly, the horror of it sinking into him, "you bought me for this--"

"I never wanted to buy you at all!" Marcus' voice had risen almost to a shout, and now Esca did wonder if the other men in the baths were listening. "I did not want you to die that day. You were brave and noble and I could not-- I could not let you die, not when there was so much life in you. But I never meant to possess you." His voice broke, and he was almost whispering again. "And I will not lie to you either and say I did not desire you from the moment I saw you, but it was different then. I did not even know you, when I first wanted you. And then my uncle bought you and I owned you, and because you were my slave I could not ask for what I wanted." He held out a hand in Esca's direction, a tentative motion, almost reaching for him and almost not.

Esca's mouth quirked. "I was your slave then. I could have done whatever you ordered me to."

Marcus looked pale, sickened. "Esca--"

"You made me come north with you. You ordered that."

"Would you have come," Marcus said, very quietly, "if I'd asked you? If I'd freed you? You know I would have died, alone. I needed you."

"I wouldn't have wanted you dead. I would have come. But you didn't ask me. You never asked me. How is it different, then, that you never ordered me to your bed? Perhaps you merely forgot. How was I to know?"

"Esca--" Marcus tried again.

"And I'm your freedman now, eh? Don't think I haven't heard the jokes about what a freedman's duty is. Not much different."

But Marcus had wanted him, he thought. Marcus had always wanted him. Wanted him even now. That made him feel-- he did not know how that made him feel. It was a strange tension, low in his gut, but something about it was not unwelcome. Marcus cared for him, he thought. Marcus had learned to be kind to him, eventually. They had learned to be kind to each other. Perhaps it would be good.

"I wanted," said Marcus, still pale, "I wanted to wait at least until you were free. I always meant to free you. I wanted you to be able to say no if you did not want it." He laughed, a short, spasming sound. "And then you said no. So I suppose, really, I planned for this."

"I have not said no yet," Esca said, softly, and the naked hope in Marcus' eyes was a kind of terror to behold. He held this much power over Marcus with just one word, and he feared that another ill-chosen word would send Marcus away forever. "It is only-- it is a thing I had never let myself notice, whether I was attracted to you. Do you understand?"

Marcus' brow furrowed. "No."

At least he was honest about it.

"You were my master," Esca explained. "I could not let myself think about--"

_The way you looked at me in the arena. Your eyes. How you smiled at me, the first day you could walk again, and how happy I was for you even though I hated myself for rejoicing in it. The freckles upon your shoulders. Your hands, your hands on the dagger in the rain, and I swore I would come back for you, I would swear anything._

Oh.

"Esca?" Marcus was peering at him, concerned.

"I think," Esca managed, finally, "I think, if you would, we should return to the inn."

Marcus' face was still, giving nothing away. "Why is that?"

Esca held out his hand, very carefully, under the water. The light from above reflected off the pool, making the image warp and wobble. His hand was not shaking. Certainly not.

"My answer is yes."

But Marcus' expression only twisted further into disbelief. "You-- you said no. I told you, I didn't want this if you didn't. It is kind of you to say it, but there is no sense in--"

Slowly, giving time for Marcus to move away if he wished it, Esca reached out further, until his hand lay against Marcus' arm, underwater. Marcus shivered once, hot like a man struck with fever, but he said nothing.

"But there is so much sense in it," Esca said, and he felt dizzy with the very possibility. "I laid my hand on you, like so, when you gave me my dagger back, do you remember?"

He lifted his hand to the back of Marcus' head, not quite touching him, and the echo of the movement went through him. He remembered doing this.

Marcus nodded and there began to be the light of hope in his eyes. "I am not likely to forget that moment as long as I live."

"I swore to return." He let his hand drop, sliding back to Marcus' side.

"I know."

Esca smiles. "We have been everything else to each other, only I have never let myself think about this."

Marcus' smile was nervous. "And what do you think?"

"I have always... felt things for you that I could not explain. When I was your slave, at first I hated that I had to spend time with you, because I did not want to think about what I felt, or why. I felt I should not like you, not then. But--" he makes himself say this-- "I always liked you, regardless. And you were so handsome, surely you must know that. You are. And I liked you. More than liked you. I swore my life to you. I have never sworn that to another. And I think-- if it is what you want, I would like to try."

And then Marcus was grinning at him, joyously, their hands interlaced, and pulling him out of the water.

"Marcus," Esca said in an undertone, "I think, if you are one to care about such matters, people will notice if we start fucking in the middle of the baths."

* * *

Marcus waited until they were in the apodyterium to kiss him again, in a dark empty corner, hidden away from view by a wall of clothes-boxes. It was slow, hesitant, as if he knew how much he had presumed the first time they tried.

"It's all right," Esca said, and then he dragged Marcus' head down to kiss him back, as proof. "Come to bed with me?"

Marcus looked at him for one long, solemn moment, and then he smiled.

"I should mention," Esca added, "that I broke one of the beds after you left. We'll be sharing anyway." He raised an eyebrow. "Depends how closely you'd like to share it, of course."

And Marcus was once again laughing as they dressed and walked out side-by-side into the sunlight. "I think you should decide again," he said, and he smiled. "It's worked well so far."

"Then I wish to share the bed as closely as possible," he said, fiercely, and he knew he had been right when Marcus smiled again. He understood, he understood it all now, and it was going to be well, very well indeed.


End file.
